


small mercies

by dragonsong (NekoAisu)



Series: FFXIV Minifics [7]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Courtship, Fluff, Gender-Neutral Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Lalafell Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-18
Updated: 2019-10-18
Packaged: 2020-12-23 16:47:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21084599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NekoAisu/pseuds/dragonsong
Summary: For the ask:hello, lala player here! how would you interpret the main ishgardian crew noticing minor inconveniences that the WoL faces during their time in the holy see? (i.e. stair steps being half their height, tables too high to see over, neck aches from craning up to talk to anyone, etc.) romantic or no, i leave it entirely up to you! i love your writing style, tysm for doing what you do, and i hope the days continue to treat you kindly 😊🙏





	small mercies

Ishgard is not made for Lalafell. This is an inalienable truth Aymeric de Borel notices with worrying frequency. Every time the Warrior of Light struggles up the steps for mass, whenever they heave their body up and into a chair with only determination to see them through, he worries. Seeking the counsel of his beloved friends and a trustworthy enemy, he finds it is not only he who harbors worry.

Ysayle attests to their need to take a Chocobo everywhere in Coerthas, snowbanks swallowing them whole, otherwise. She has blessed them more than once with her aether, if only to keep them from succumbing to the water soaking through their winter gear all the way up to the neck.

Haurchefant has noticed how difficult chocobo tending is for them. They summon their bird often, yes, but stabling and handling tack in a stable designed for Elezen is… difficult. To say the absolute least.

Estinien simply grumbles about their need for itty bitty tiny weaponry. What will toothpick lances do to a wyrm? He has no idea. His disbelief is known.

Everything in Ishgard is made for Spoken of their height. Aymeric resolves to attempt to rectify at least a few of these glaring issues.

He speaks with the Warrior about accommodations and gets a reply he was not expecting in the least. “Have any of you considered how bad of a neck ache I get from talkin’? Looking up all the time, peering over things, riding on someone’s skirt up the stairs! You’re handsome, alright, but stop attempting to build me a home and start at courtship!”

He flushes red down his neck and replies unsteadily, “‘Twas not meant as such.”

“Oh. My apologies.”

He coughs into his hand, reigns in his rampant nerves, and says, “I would fain start at courtship, given your permission.”

“Wow. I wasn’t expectin’ that, either,” they say, hands on their cheeks in equal embarrassment. “Sounds good, though. I hope courting here isn’t as dreadfully _tall_.”

“It is not,” Aymeric says, “and we can start with things you find to be comfortable, of course.”

The Warrior stands from their seat, climbs onto the table, and demands, “Hug me.”

“Pardon?”

“Hug me,” they repeat, bouncing a little. “We can worry about propriety after I get a hug and stop shivering.”

He laughs, reaching to hug them gently and getting the entirety of their body pressed to his like some sort of urchin. “I take it that propriety is not a thing to worry about in your company at _all_.”

“Maybe. You have a good few years to figure it out.”

**Author's Note:**

> hmu on:  
tumblr | https://ffxivimagines.tumblr.com/  
twitter | twitter.com/FlamingAceKiri  
discord | NekoAisu#7099


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